Finwe's Joy
by LadyPorpoise
Summary: All Finwe wanted was to have the perfect family. All that he was given was Feanor, and the elf-king for a long time did not see that this special child was all that he needed to be happy. In search of happiness, in the form of remarriage, Finwe started the downfall for his son and himself, a thing Finwe came to regret. But he would do anything for his Alasse, even take the blame.
1. The Start of the Journey

_A/N I worked on this thing all day, after the original idea (this chapter) was written on my phone sometime last year I believe. At first, this was maybe going to be a very long oneshot...Then I started getting toward 8 thousand words. I myself am not entirely a fan of 10k oneshots, the only exception being in the case of very long story chapters and how I am feeling that day, so I decided to put this in pieces._

_This is a very generic telling, otherwise this would be insanely long, even though I am sure the fluff and seeing Finwe and Feanor happy would have been nice. o.o Midway through I wanted to try more Silmarillion esque kind of style. This is all Finwe's perspective, and it does show Feanor at some of his worse moments, but elsewhere when I write about him in Valinor I do want to have him be a nice charming person. It's just things involving Indis and her side of the family, Feanor doesn't react positively to. Plus this focuses on Finwe's downfall._

_Note on the timeline...One year in Valinor meant ten years in Middle Earth. First: I ended up deleted 2k words which I thankfully saved because I forgot that important detail, thinking that Fingolfin was born when Feanor was 29, then I remembered the important detail. That made me happy because I want Maedhros to be older than Fingolfin, because why name him "Third Finwe"? It makes more sense to me for it to be: Finwe the first Finwe, Feanor the second Finwe, and then Maedhros the third Finwe, instead of Feanor, Fingolfin, then Maedhros. Also Formenos could not have been built that quickly in twelve years. 120 years is more reasonable. And, it's just funny to me thinking elves going: "You're ten years old my child, you're all grown up!"_

* * *

Finwë sat tiredly in the gardens waiting for Estë to come back. In his lap was a weakly screaming baby. Fëanor let everyone know about his hunger. Much to the Noldorin king's frazzled nerves, Fëanor aptly refused to eat from any wetnurse the king requested to help.

That was not the end of it, this refusal to feed from anyone other than his dead mother.

Finwë did not have to go anywhere far or for long before Fëanor bellowed his displeasure. The king and nannies tried first to ignore it in hopes it would make the babe discouraged from doing so, but given the numerous occasions of the maidens running and depositing the prince in his arms, the look on the little one's face turning from rage to utter sorrow, it instilled guilt and heartbreak in Finwë.

Fëanor was indeed gifted in being so perceptive for one so young...Finwë had a gut feeling his son knew there was something wrong.

Now, weeks after being brought into the world, Finwë did not know what else to do but to come here. Fëanor weighed almost nothing in his arms, and neither were these outbursts so loud anymore, only sad whimperings and quiet cries. Finwë hardly left him alone now out of fear that his only source of Joy-his Alassë-would also disappear.

'If only Míriel were still here,' Finwë thought in grief and bitterness.

Finwë sighed in relief as the Valië of healing returned with a pot of flowers in her hands. She sat down next to the king and plucked one of the heads from a stem. Estë held it close to the baby's face before it registered to the child that there was something there. Fëanor hungrily and greedily suckled on the pistil, and the crying stopped.

"This will sustain him if he will accept no other." Estë said softly. "The flowers will regrow to meet every day's needs."

"My lady...what do I do?" Finwë asked. "I fear he is dying every time I leave the room, that some demon from Melkor comes and torments him. The screaming makes it sound like it is happening."

"You cannot leave him alone in this crucial stage, Finwë. Fëanáro...elflings know who their parents are even before birth. He knows Míriel is gone, and I fear that has caused some damage to his fëa with that knowledge."

Abandonment...Finwë felt a chill rise in his chest. "Am I supposed to fill that void somehow? I am just one person..."

Estë looked at the elf-king. "You are all he has left in the short time he has been alive. The same can be said for you and him being the last you have of happiness."

Finwë took in this knowledge silently and nodded a little. "But why me? My son is destined for great achievements I feel...but to face this by myself..."

"You are not alone. Indulge in this need to be close for now," Estë sounded grave then. "But do not let Fëanáro control you with that when he is older."

Finwë nodded again at this and thanked the Valië. Taking the flowers, Finwë felt immense joy seeing Fëanor at peace as the baby dozed-flower still in his mouth and having a full belly for the first time ever.

Finwë steeled his resolve and silently vowed to do the best he could for his only son.


	2. A Promise Without Hesitation

Finwë took parenthood quite literally when he finally set up a system that worked. Fëanor was always carried in a sling everywhere Finwë went: in the palace, in the city, in the fields-everywhere. It made the purpose of even having a nursery moot, as Finwë became Fëanor's sleeping and play place.

With this setup, Finwë was able to see more of Fëanor's perceptiveness and awareness of what went on around him. Become more acquainted with his personality and needs. If the king knew any better, Fëanor was even content listening to him hold court. A few months old and Fëanor was already speaking one and two worded sentences, far quicker than most children at his age. Neither cared that Fëanor's teeth were not yet present. It certainly did not stop the infant from holding fractured conversation.

Finwë also could feel the toll of being a single caretaker begin to make itself known. Even with no prior experience to compare to, Finwë thought he was pouring more of himself in this task than he would have had Míriel been helping. It was not something that bothered the king too much...it felt comforting to him spending so much time with Fëanor.

Finwë did all that Míriel would have done and more.

"Oo," Fëanor requested from his spot against Finwë's chest.

The king gave his son the flower head and the prince fed from it happily, and Finwë knew a nap would soon follow this meal.

Finwë took that opportunity to rest as well.

* * *

It was not long before Fëanor became a very energetic young boy.

It took the servants by surprise and astonished Finwë by how Fëanor could go for weeks without stopping. This of course led to the prince crashing into the dream world very hard, but then Fëanor was up and running again before a day passed.

Yet all this pent-up energy had less than pleasant things associated with it.

Fëanor was fussy and needy. If something did not go his way, he would let the other party know about it. One such thing was trying to make Fëanor sleep, but in the end, Finwë let it go. Without even knowing it, that was where Finwë began making more compromises and exceptions, as he wanted nothing more than to keep his son happy-indulging in whatever Fëanor asked about doing and learning to "vent" the flame inside.

The Valar caught on with this and understood why Finwë let Fëanor have his way: the child needed something to do for his own health sake. But at the same time...who had control of the situation slowly was being transferred.

On one occasion Finwë left the palace without Fëanor for a bit. The prince was at the end of another run and would finally rest soon. Finwë was not gone for too long once he was sure Fëanor was asleep. But when he came back, Finwë did not even need to hear it…he felt the distress from his son radiating in waves through their bond. The king dreaded the worst when he hoped that it would have been gone since Fëanor was an infant.

He found his son in his room, gripping the sheet and shaking in his sobbing. Fëanor did not even notice his father until the king held him close. The crying intensified from relief.

"Alassë, what is wrong?" Finwë asked, trying to keep his own emotions from bubbling over. He hated seeing his firstborn like this. But a frantic father would not help an already upset elfling.

"Y-you left me! I thought you left me forever!"

A part of his heart broke again at this reminder. Finwë held the child closer, letting his own fëa wrap around the fire of his son, containing it. "I will never leave you, Alassë. Not while I still draw breath."

"Swear it," Fëanor blurted, desperate for reassurance. An oath in the elfling's mind would lead to immediate comfort and stability.

"I swear I will not leave you," Finwë answered without hesitation, kissing the boy's head a few times.

Slowly Fëanor calmed, and this emotional and spiritual distress drained him further. He passed out on Finwë's chest shortly after. The king stayed awake, unable to find Irmo's dreamworld after something like this. Fëanor could not go on like this at this age, and Finwë could not be here at his side all the time, knowing his son needed to grow up at some point.

Fëanor needed a mother.


	3. The Start of the Downfall

"You will rip away any chance to leave Mandos from my mother?!" Fëanor yelled.

A year and a half passed. Finwë met with Ingwë for help with this situation…and managed to gain the affection of the high king's niece. Finwë jumped at the opportunity, paying no mind that maybe Indis was not able to deal with Fëanor. Let alone if she was even interested in raising the child. But Finwë felt desperate.

And this was not what he was expecting.

Fëanor created Tengwar, the start of one of his many achievements. A thing Finwë and other scholars praised him tremendously for. Now Finwë and Fëanor sought another way to ease the burning and working at the forge seemed the be the next best thing. Fëanor seemed happier and more content since beginning that apprenticeship.

Finwë underestimated Fëanor's fierce love for his parents, both dead and alive.

Failed to see how much Fëanor _needed_ approval and acceptance from the one that was alive…and how remarrying meant that love being divided and shared with other people. That Fëanor could not tolerate having the attention divided.

"You know what Námo told us," Finwë said gently in attempt to pacify. "She will not come back."

"It could change!" Fëanor's voice remained loud and incensed. Nothing would calm him down. "It has been a short time enough, in the future she may change her mind!"

Finwë's face changed to reflect a little anger, patience drawing thin. "Míriel should not have given up if she wanted to be a part of our lives. She forfeited that right when she fled her body."

How Finwë learned not to say such harsh words in the future. Fëanor sputtered, anger turning into sorrow. "It was not her fault-not her fault!" he screamed tearfully. "I will hate you if you go through with it!"

"Alassë-"

"I hate you!" the boy screamed again and ran down the halls.

Finwë started to follow his son but stopped. The Noldorin king felt incredible remorse and self-loathing for upsetting Fëanor so. But what could he do? Finwë wanted a complete family. He firmly believed it would make Fëanor happier, which was not the case…but he was a handful, and Finwë wanted help. Yet Fëanor had to be first. Maybe he was right, Míriel could return given more time, but Finwë could only feel resentment toward the woman.

The king would wait, denying himself the joys of marriage and more offspring for the time being. Only for his Alassë…

* * *

A much older and gangly Fëanor stood in front of Finwë with folded arms, his beautiful face twisted in crossness.

Finwë felt weary over the adamant stance his son took against marrying Indis. A part of the king felt that on the times he had Indis in Tirion, Fëanor treated her with as much contempt and dislike he could get away with, but the king was _sure_ his son would not be that cruel. It was too subtle for Finwë to notice, and Indis had not brought up complaints of the prince's behavior, so the thought was put away.

Finwë again broached the subject to his son, and much to his sadness, Fëanor disapproved fiercely.

"I have given your mother enough time to change her mind. You are six years old, and your childhood is swiftly passing." Finwë started. "You will be forging your own path with your achievements, my son, you already have with being away from Tirion so much."

"I come home regularly." Fëanor defended. "I would not abandon you unless I was forced to."

"Yet I am lonely when you are gone," Finwë sounded pained. "Your special needs prevent me from simply keeping you here, and doing so would be putting a restraint on your boundless talent and wonders of creation, which would not be fair to you."

"You would break the laws of our people if you remarry," Fëanor stated darkly. "I do not care if the Valar give you the liberty to do so, it will only feed to the battle that is to remove my mother's legacy and stain her name."

Finwë knew his son was referring to the changes being made to their language. Fëanor vehemently protested that change too: as Míriel's name would be changed from Þerindë to Serindë if it went through. The evolution of language was already being accepted, and Finwë mentally grimaced imagining his son speak with a lisp for the rest of eternity.

"Enough time has passed," Finwë answered evenly. "You would not be here for Indis' presence to bother you that much."

Fëanor seemingly glowed in his held back anger, but this time, unlike when he was a child, he was disappointed and grieved instead of having an explosive fit. "So you will do it." He said flatly.

"Please understand-"

"Oh, I understand." Fëanor barked. "I am not enough for you. Alassë and his world-changing achievements are not enough for the Ñoldorin king to be satisfied. Well, I will prove you wrong, that I am enough for you." The prince turned and started to leave. "Do not expect to see me at your wedding, father."

Finwë opened his mouth, saying his son's name, but without fruit. The king leaned back into the wall feeling that same helpless, self-loathing, sad emotion from before. But this time he would not deny himself, knowing that Fëanor was soon to be an adult and out of the palace by the looks of things.

His marriage to Indis _would_ happen, whether Fëanor liked it or not.

Alas, perhaps in this matter was the only time Finwë should have heeded to the unspoken warning Fëanor's reactions were sending off.


	4. Feanor's Unyielding Grasp

Finwë possessed little joy in the days leading up to the wedding, and even after the celebration. True to his word, Fëanor was not present. During the festivities Finwë felt some elation, but it was dampened by his earlier forlornness. Finwë hid his sadness well in Indis' presence, but after they became one, it was not so easy. She prodded him to be open about his sorrows, and in time he did.

Indis felt pity toward her new husband and disappointed in her stepson for his callousness. She then saw through the façade and found the spite and hatred he treated her in the past.

"I do not know what to do for him," Finwë said softly. "I tried to make him see, but he would not heed my words."

"You doted on him long enough," Indis comforted. "He is coming into maturity, so he must learn to accept the way things are. Perhaps seeing you happy will change his mind."

Finwë hoped so, but he could not help but feel a twisted heart, that he had driven his son away with this marriage. Fëanor said he would not leave Finwë unless he were forced to…did he feel forced…? When would he come back?

Fëanor scarcely came to Tirion, and when he did, he never went to Finwë. Finwë tried to seek him out, but every time, he missed the chances to.

For eight years the prince was absent from the city. There was no coming of age ceremony, an event the king looked forward to holding for quite some time. He held a private celebration and a prayer to Eru to keep his child safe and bring him to his full potential. It was wrought with tears.

The longer Fëanor was absent, Finwë became even more depressed and alone without his son there, so much that any desire to have more children was gone. This confused and frustrated Indis greatly, wondering why the father could not let go long enough for them to have a life together.

Such was the trouble of having a double bond with his offspring. Finwë gave all his soul and more into Fëanor.

News reached Tirion of the growing might and skill of Fëanor. He spent time learning under Aulë before dispersing gifts to the Vanyar and Teleri, spent time mining and exploring the caves in the depths of the earth, created new elements and materials, strategies to improve architecture…The list was endless. Finwë felt proud of his son, but a new form of pain manifested when Fëanor gave nothing to Tirion.

That all changed one day.

Finwë and Indis were enjoying each other's company, the new queen making great effort to bring the king out of his gloom and be _happy_ with their marriage. Her efforts were starting to take hold when a servant interrupted their peace.

"My lord, the prince-he comes with many gifts and glorious gems!"

Finwë got up after the first four words. He made haste to leave the palace and to the courtyard. Indis was behind, though she stood at the top of the stairs. Coming up the pathway, with people looking from the sides, a tall and formidable elf-man strode toward the king. He wore rich reds and golds all over, hair plaited and adorned with rubies and diamonds, topped off with a diadem. Of all elf-men this was the fairest any had ever seen, or ever will see.

Finwë did not react immediately. When he felt the familiar presence of his son's soul, _then_ he recognized him.

"Alassë!" the king shouted in jubilance, quickly moving forward to pull the prince into a hug.

Surprisingly (not that Finwë even thought about it), Fëanor did not reject the gesture. In fact, he returned the embrace with great strength, a desperate kind of hold. "Atar-"

"I am sorry for driving you away," Finwë cried. "Please do not doubt my love for you!"

The first words made Indis tense. She narrowed her eyes at the small smirk that graced Fëanor's face.

The prince did not look at the queen for long, abhorring that alone. His features smoothed out as the hole in his heart filled being in the arms of his sire again. He was on the bridge of tears and losing his composure. "Atar, I…I have missed you so. A day did not go by without me thinking of you, and in some cases bringing you with me in spirit. I have learned from the greatest of our people, learned from a few of the Valar sacred knowledge. Thus, I come back and give you the best of what I have garnered over the years."

Finwë looked up and saw many carts full of precious metals, gems, crystals, and other menial objects. He gaped, alongside many others seeing the vast wealth the prince accumulated for his lord. Even Indis was impressed. Who could not be?

Fëanor pulled out of the hug, Finwë unwillingly loosening his hold. The prince from a sleeve withdrew a necklace. It was surprisingly simple given everything else and Fëanor's own gaudiness: a copper necklace with a clear crystal. The most fascinating part about it was the dim light housed within it, beating like a heart.

"This was a project started early on in my journey, and only recently have I succeeded in what I wanted with this…Father, no more will you be alone. I will be with you near to your heart."

Finwë mutely took it. He felt that small sliver of Fëanor's fëa inside. Tears fell down his cheeks. "Of all the gifts you have given me, Alassë: this, and that you are here in person most of all, will be the most treasured." He folded a hand over the jewelry before placing a hand on the side of Fëanor's face. "Let me see you, precious one. You have grown so much…"

Indis watched Finwë fret over Fëanor, the prince eating up every ounce of attention. She felt envy in her heart. She knew of the complicated situation with Fëanor, yet she did not think it would be this bad. How he had Finwë's heart locked in his grasp, never to let go. But seeing Finwë so happy, her mood mellowed a little bit. Perhaps now he could be content, focus on their relationship, and have the family that they both desired.

Fëanor announced that he had found the one whom he wanted to marry, and Nerdanel, the daughter of Mahtan whom Fëanor learned under, came forward. Finwë's joy grew to greater heights.

* * *

The wedding between Fëanor and Nerdanel was equally grand. In the time that Fëanor was away, he apparently built himself a home in the countryside. Finwë was sad that his son and daughter-in-law would not be in Tirion all the time, but he was comforted by the fact that Fëanor did not abandon him entirely.

So caught up in rejoicing over the healed bridge, Finwë thought of having more children after his first grandson was born. Third Finwë Fëanor called him, and the king was ever more delighted. Indis was not too pleased, but she was relieved when Finwë _finally_ consented to having another child. Their hearts were lifted up when Ñolofinwë-Fingolfin-entered the world.

The same sentiment was not expressed by Fëanor. It went unnoticed by Finwë, believing all to be well, though Indis caught on quick and was wary of the crown prince being around her first child. Fëanor showed no hostility toward his half-brother, though his patience was short with the elfling, and never gave Fingolfin positive attention. He especially was not happy to have his own son interact with the second prince, but he humored his father's desires of having the two children play together.

Finwë felt contentment for the first time in a while. However, he was oblivious to his small gestures of favoritism toward his firstborn, something that his secondborn picked up on. It made Fingolfin gravitate toward his mother more than Finwë over time.

The king and queen had Arafinwë-Finarfin-when Fëanor's second son and Fingolfin's firstborn Findekáno-Fingon, were adolescents. Equally did Fëanor treat his youngest brother with the same concealed disgust and subtle jabs he gave to Fingolfin. But when Fingolfin reached maturity, it was then that the rivalry between the two began.

They fought silent battles for attention, for praise for their achievements. Fingolfin would be praised for his patience and wisdom, but Fëanor in all things surpassed his brother and garnered most if not all of Finwë's attention to himself and to his sons.

Woefully was Finwë blind to his eldest's tricks, blinded by his own self need to be assured of Fëanor's affections. He believed it to be Fingolfin in error to rile his older brother, instead of the other way around. Finwë of course gave his other sons and their children attention and praise, but before the king came even close to giving them _adequate_ time, Fëanor swooped in with yet another grand achievement or to boast over one of his offspring's accomplishments. Scarred and carrying guilt from driving Fëanor away from before, Finwë dropped whatever it was he was doing to make up for the lost time and to make sure Fëanor never doubted his love.

This was at the expense of the security of Fingolfin and Finarfin. They always cast sad glances at their father and anger toward the crown-prince. Fëanor would give them arrogant and smug faces, before sending off the signal that they should leave and not get in the way.

Finwë never noticed.


	5. Feanor's Peak, Finwe's Falling

_A/N I appreciate your continuing reviews Sophie. It makes me happy seeing people comment things related to the story._

* * *

Finwë was displeased with Melkor's release from the Halls of Mandos.

The loathing the king felt for the pain the Vala caused at Cuivienen overpowered any pity or compassion he could have had. So much that he forbade his children from seeking Melkor for tutelage and knowledge.

Fëanor took this command poorly at first, but the further he thought on it, a new idea came to be.

"I must away, father…But worry not, I will return."

Finwë gave his blessings and let a hand hover over the necklace Fëanor made. With his firstborn gone, Finwë attempted to provide more time to Indis and her children. Much to the confusion of the king, he was received with awkward and tentative happiness. Finwë found it hard to connect with them, unsure of what to say or do. His efforts ceased and he withdrew to the countryside home of Fëanor.

While the king was gone, so did Melkor weave his discourse among the Noldor in the city.

Finwë looked for Fëanor's return, curious as to what new thing he would create next. He occupied himself with the Ambarussa, the youngest of the seven sons. The king could also sense some of Nerdanel's tension, but he did not inquire.

Years passed, and Fëanor returned to his family with much greater splendor.

The Silmarils blazed upon his brow, shining and radiating alongside the brightness of his already burning spirit. The crown-prince was like a star fallen from the heavens.

The servants in the household quickly let the news spread of this achievement. To many, it was a cause of wonder and joy. For others…jealously and envy.

When all was said and done, Finwë and Fëanor were alone together, the son in exhaustion resting his head on Finwë's lap. The king undid the braids and other adornments in his son's hair, occasionally glancing at the Silmarils which sat in a coffer on the table.

"This is the greatest thing you have done yet, child," Finwë commented absently.

Fëanor hummed softly in acknowledgement. This arduous task wore him down to the bone. It reminded Finwë of the times after Fëanor made Nerdanel conceive. The spirit of fire was…mellow. Calm unburdened from the responsibility set on him having great prowess. Finwë sometimes wished Fëanor was not burdened with such a powerful spirit, for Fëanor's comfort most of all.

"I said I would prove myself to you…" Fëanor murmured.

Finwë froze temporarily and made his firstborn look up, face stern. "You have gone up and beyond, Alassë. You never had to prove yourself to me. The moment you were born was enough for me. My love for you has never lessened-you know this."

Fëanor's demeanor changed ever so slightly, but he had no energy to argue, neither did he want to ruin the moment. He got a bit more comfortable. "I…just dread, that you will abandon me. I know you say you will not, but it is so hard not to think about it."

Finwë lamented over the scar that was etched permanently into Fëanor. The king let his own fëa wash over his son's, their bond reinvigorated and stronger than any father and son would have. Fëanor relaxed-almost turning into a puddle.

"I made a promise to you, Alassë," Finwë reminded. "I will never leave you."

Fëanor drifted off into slumber, soul resonating with his father's. Finwë too drifted into dreams, happy with how things were.

* * *

"You must stop favoriting one over the rest!" Indis could not contain herself anymore. "Our sons have come to me in tears, upset and heartbroken that their father will not spare even a moment with them!"

Finwë was in the office when the queen barged in. He tensed at her raised voice; he did not raise his head.

"You spare no time for me either anymore!" Indis cried. "You are in the country with Fëanáro or his children, never with the rest of us."

"The last few times I tried being with you it was uncomfortable for all of us." Finwë sounded dejected.

"Of course it would be! You never connected with our sons the way you have with Fëanáro!" Idril continued to have a raised voice. "If you would put more time and effort with your _family,_ then it would not be so tension-ridden!"

Tirion was more on edge than usual, and for the life of Finwë he could not understand why. It must be infiltrating the palace finally.

"It is not fair that you have bound me to this life of unequal yoking." Indis continued. "I came here to alleviate your pain and bring you joy, and you slight me greatly!"

"How have I slighted you?" Finwë hissed, his temper rising. "If I recall _you_ persisted in being wedded to me, even amidst my doubt!"

"You wanted a family, and I have given that to you, and you want nothing to do with it! It is no wonder you are distant with Ñolofinwë and Arafinwë, and they think it is a lost cause at this point!" Indis huffed. "You wanted a family, I wanted to help-"

"Stop there," Finwë interrupted. "Since when have you helped where it mattered most? You told me to let Alassë-"

"It is _always_ about that confounded prince of yours." Indis' voice became shrill. "If it is not the Palantíri, it is the wealth he gives you so you cannot look at Ñolofinwë or raise him, and if it is not that, it is Fëanáro's sons-and now the Silmarils! I have helped you in giving you what you want, and what do I get in return? Neglect!"

Finwë arose to his full height. "I have tried my best, Indis! Yes, I wanted the family that I could not have with Míriel, yet at the same time, I cannot neglect the child that she did give me! To me, it seems you would will that I never acknowledged that my firstborn existed! I made a vow to him, Indis, long before I came to you, and I will not break it."

"You are right-I wish you would stop heeding to that foolish, pompous child you created!" Indis screamed. "You do not heed to my sons or me. If you cared about us, you would stop spoiling him so!"

"You do not know him like I do!" Finwë yelled in turn. "You never cared about Fëanáro's needs! You do not get to dictate what I do and will not do with my Joy!"

"I loved you long before Míriel ever came!" Indis finally admitted in this shouting competition.

Finwë became silent at this admission. He felt the blood pump in his ears, and his voice became dangerously low. "Then that is your mistake to let Míriel earn my affections first. You entered this blindly with unrealistic expectations."

"You led me on," Indis was in tears. "Why did you lead me on?"

"I was on the ledge the entire time. It was you who pushed me over it." Finwë felt moisture accumulate in his eyes. "Fëanáro will always be first in my heart. It was my mistake indulging in my desires…"

"It is all your fault."

"You are not innocent, either!" Finwë snapped. "You knew the risks and decided not to heed them! We must _both_ live with our foolish choices!"

Indis' breath caught, and she turned in a flurry. "I hope you are happy now, my king," she spat the title and ran from the chamber.

When he was alone, the onslaught of grief and heartbreak was finally let loose. Finwë wept fiercely, regretting so much and floundering for ways to resolve the mess he created. He never saw his second wife again after this event. To the Wise, it was decided that both the king and queen were at fault. It is known that Finwë ought to have been content with Fëanor alone (a fact the Noldorin king painfully came to realize far too late), but Indis in her selfish desire for a far off love created many problems also, by refusing to see how she would affect the spirit of fire by forcing herself into his life.

Long Finwë agonized in solitude. He was unaware that there was an audience before him and coming to his senses, beheld Fingolfin and Finarfin. Seeing them shattered his heart in other ways too seeing their grief, disappointment, and anger. "My children…"

"She is gone," Finarfin stated, barely contained.

"I-"

"Did you ever love her?" Fingolfin asked tearfully. "Did you ever love us?"

"Of course!" Finwë answered desperately. "I have always loved you!"

The faces on the two princes told the king that they did not believe his words.

"Please," Finwë begged earnestly. "Please give me another chance."

"Guarantee that Fëanáro will not exercise his authority and throw us out of the city," Fingolfin spoke the condition required for that second chance.

"He wouldn-" The king sputtered in disbelief but nodded his head. "Yes, yes: you will not be banned from Tirion. I will not let Fëanáro do so." He hastened to reassure, not understanding what has been transpiring in the shadows.

This set Fingolfin and Finarfin's mind at dubious ease, but they in their tender hearts embraced their lord, as they all needed it. Finwë held fast to them, trying hard to impart love through a closed gate in their bond. Fëanor was much easier to give to…

Finwë desperately hoped things would turn for the better. He would make it so.


	6. Feanor's Fall From Greatness

It only got worse.

Fëanor's wrath was stirred against his brothers hearing Finwë favoring them-protecting them. Finwë was appalled and angered seeing his son rile the Noldor to further strife and his blasphemies against the Valar.

"What thralldom do you think you are bound to?" the king confronted his firstborn. "The life found in Aman surpasses what we had in the east!"

"Perhaps in the past, it was so, but now we are enlightened; stronger, and can stand against the evils that plagued our kind before!" Fëanor retorted.

"Why risk being tormented by the spirits by forsaking the protection the Valar mercifully granted us? Alassë, what has changed in your heart to rebel?"

"That I am betrayed by my own father, who would humor those who would usurp us both?! No more is this land filled with joy as it did, only bitterness that comes from being trapped in a situation that will never stop." Fëanor's loud voice faltered, upset. "The Valar would hold us from our true potential, _my _full potential. I would not leave you unless I were forced to, father, and I feel that I must go, or my soul, disappointment, and grief will swallow me whole if I stay here any longer. Make your choice: me, or the half-spawn of Indis. To stay, or to leave with me."

That Fëanor felt betrayed guilted Finwë, as well as the decision that was long coming. A choice Finwë did not want to face. The king gave no answer and in subdued silence left his son alone, not giving any pause to question the accusation Fëanor set before Fingolfin and Finarfin.

Wearily Finwë sat in the throne room, waiting for the council to come together. The audacity in Fëanor grew to fell heights, and it came to the point where it must be managed. He was utterly at a loss on what to do, and his shame prevented him from seeking aid from the Valar. Surely they were watching this spectacle unfold? When will they intervene?

Finwë blankly watched Fingolfin approach the throne. At least his other sons' spite toward their older brother diminished. Fingolfin was much more gracious and patient. But this time, it seems Fingolfin was being worn thin with Fëanor's antics.

_"King and father, wilt thou not restraint the pride of our brother, Curufinwë, who is called the Spirit of Fire, all too truly? By what right does he speak for all our people, as if he were king? Thou it was who long ago spoke before the Quendi, bidding them accept the summons of the Valar to Aman. Thou it was that led the Noldor upon the long road through the perils of Middle-Earth to the light of Eldamar. If thou dost not now repent of it, two sons at least thou hast to honour thy words."_

The Noldor were foolish to make him king. Finwë dared to think the Valar made a mistake making him the Ambassador of the Noldor after all that has transpired. He failed Fëanor miserably, and by extension condemned his other children to unfair and wanting lives. And somehow, that led to the unrest of his own people. He failed everyone he was given to be in charge over.

Finwë's stupor broke when he heard the clamor of metal. His eyes widened, seeing Fëanor dressed in all metal with a sword in hand.

Fëanor's eyes were glowing as he came down the walkway. _"So it is, even as I guessed. My half-brother would be before me with my father, in this as in all other matters."_ He pointed with the sword. _"Get thee gone, and take thy due place!"_

Finwë was speechless, as were other lords that now gathered in the hall. He should say something, reign in his son, like Fingolfin said he should. Use the authority that was rightfully his. But Finwë did nothing.

Fingolfin took the threat in stride by not acknowledging his brother and bowed respectfully before the king. This further incensed Fëanor and Finwë saw it. The king watched both his sons depart from the hall.

"My lord, you cannot let this stand!" one advisor cried aloud.

"It is Fëanáro who causes our turmoil! His arrogance runs too deep!"

"We must be quick, or Ñolofinwe is bound to be harmed by the sword!"

The insults and accusations against Fëanáro rang in Finwë's ears. They should be blaming him for his son's failings. It was he who let it go this far.

The king made to the entrance of the house. Most, if not all, of his household, stood in the courtyard. In the center, Fëanor and Fingolfin stood, the former with a deadly look in his eye and the sword pressed against Fingolfin's chest. All their children stood frozen in their places, and Finarfin and his house watched too.

"Fëanáro, cease this madness!" Finwë shouted.

"I will not cease!" Fëanor defied the order boldly. "This usurper will not go unpunished!"

Finwë anguished at this refusal to obey. He never had to reign his son in before. Never taught him to respect authority. This was the result of his inaction.

"Then shall you see punishment yourself, Finwion," a voice filled with majesty and power boomed from the rooftops.

All the elves' heads were turned. Lo, there atop the roofs were Maiar of Manwë, their spears held aloft and their wings outstretched. It was Eönwë who spoke.

Finwë dreaded with the Maiar's arrival. Fear dominated in his mind over the fate of Fëanor.

"Thou hast spoken boldly against the rulers of the Earth, Fëanáro, and caused needless distress among the Ñoldor. Thou threatened thy kin with the sword that would lead to his demise if this continued." Eönwë read the charges grimly.

Two Maiar descended next to Fëanor. Fingolfin left the scene into the crowd. The spirit of fire's face flushed in humiliation, and he cast his sword to the ground, sending his penetrating stare toward the marble road.

"Thou wilt be brought to the Ring of Doom to face judgement. May the Valar have mercy on thee."

Finwë felt faint. The Maiar led Fëanor away. Maedhros came forward and picked up the fell sword of his father, and many of the sons of Fëanor possessed a myriad of emotion. Fingolfin and Finarfin's house was still and silent, a few casting accusing glances at their cousins as if they had a part in this.

Finwë moaned in agony. This was the legacy he would have: dissent, hatred, and conflict. Even though he was not called personally, the king followed Fëanor to the Ring of Doom.

* * *

_A/N Italic phrases are from the Silmarillion._


	7. The Judgements Bestowed

There were rare times Finwë wanted to shake sense into Fëanor. This was one of them.

The Valar prodded Fëanor until he yielded up the information they wanted, much to his humiliation. Melkor was spreading dissonance throughout the land. Finwë wanted to scream. Fëanor disobeyed him, among the numerous times he had in the past and got away with it. But this slight combined with threatening the life of Fingolfin, it was too much.

So Fëanor was banished. He could not even bring himself to look at Finwë, so at least he felt some shame before his lord. But Finwë felt he himself deserved all the blame. The king stayed in the Ring of Doom and fell on his knees, not sparing a glance at the sadness Estë possessed on her pale face.

"I have caused all this. My failings have manifested in Fëanáro. It is my fault that his soul burns so brightly and is wounded beyond healing in this life. Never did I put restraint on him, never saw how deep his contempt ran. If I had but known…" Finwë wept. "Punish me, great ones, for I deserve to carry the burden."

"You torment yourself enough," Manwë said with pity. "We need not add to the suffering you experience. But Fëanáro must answer to his own actions and will, which is something none can control nor tame."

"When the twelve years have passed, then the pain shall be healed. Endure for a while longer, child," said Námo.

Finwë refused to be comforted. He hoped one too many times for things in his family to improve only for it to be spat back at his face. He was estranged from his wife, Fëanor felt betrayed and misguided, and Fingolfin and Finarfin distant from their father. His own people must despise him now for his selfishness and petty attempts to mend the damage.

He was a disgrace.

A period of grace was given to Fëanor to gather what he willed from his home in the country and from Tirion. The Silmarils were among the treasures, one of the only treasures, he took from there. His sons followed him into exile, as did a fair number of the Noldor in Tirion. Finwë brooded long while this transpired, not hearing the coaxing of his lords and other sons to see and hope for a brighter future. That Fëanor would be forgiven.

Fëanor could be forgiven, but how could Finwë be, to have allowed all this tragedy to befall them? Even if Melkor played a significant role in all this woe?

"I am king no more," Finwë cast the crown of the Ñoldóran to the ground.

"Father," Fingolfin was dismayed.

"Wise Finwë you are rightfully named. You have dealt better and fairer with your brother and our people than I ever could. The sins of the father have passed down to the son, and it would be just that I suffer the same punishment in exile, if not longer than the appointed time." Finwë lowered his eyes. "I am a shame to the Eldar, I do not deserve the titles that have been bestowed. I have erred greatly before the Valar and Eru himself. In pursuit of my selfish desires, I ignored the calamity that would come…All this…" Finwë bit his tongue before he could finish, looking at Fingolfin in the eye.

He could not say this was all a mistake, therefore implying that Fingolfin and Finarfin never should have been born.

They did not deserve that. They deserved so, so much better. And Finwë failed in his second chance to give them better.

Finwë smiled sadly. "Lead our people to greatness, dear one," he said to his secondborn. "You will lead our people to true greatness."

So the former king left Tirion…following the journeying Noldor that were going to Formenos. Finwë spoke little to his grandsons and nothing to Fëanor for most of the journey. Even if he spoke to his son, Fëanor continued to not glance at his father, too ashamed to do so. It was a genuine shame.

When the elves reached their destination in the cold and darker part of Aman, Finwë found Fëanor in a secluded glade with the Silmarils open for the world to see. Finwë hesitated, before mustering the will to approach. He sat next to Fëanor. The son of the former king tensed, and his breath halted. Finwë did nothing, allowing his fëa to tentatively wrap around his child's.

Fëanor did not reject the gesture. "Atar…" he whispered. "You should not be here."

"Why should I not be?" Finwë asked.

"Why? Why should you associate with exiles? I have been shamed, and therefore a weight that ruins your good name. It is not fair to you."

"I am a weight to myself, Alassë." Finwë took a deep breath. "But I will not deny that I am greatly disappointed in you: angry, even, for all that you have done in recent years."

Fëanor shrunk in on himself, and Finwë loathed himself even more. The spirit of fire despised being a disappointment out of fear of being rejected like he thought Míriel to have done. How many opportunities have been missed where Finwë could have expressed his disappointment so Fëanor would straighten up his act? Yet how much more cunning would he have become to do as he willed without being caught.

"But I blame myself, not you," Finwë admitted. "I should have heeded to your wisdom at the time…It was my selfishness that has damaged everyone that was entrusted to me, you most of all." He pulled Fëanor close. "I made a promise to you since you were young that I would not leave you...and you indeed are all that I need. It has taken all this time and loss for me to realize it…but now, I have reached that point where I cannot go back and mend that which I cannot fix. It is better for me to leave them alone so they could heal, instead of trying to be a part of their lives, when I have missed the chance to be."

Fëanor nuzzled against his lord, tears splattering on Finwë's clothes. The father wrapped his soul even closer to Fëanor's, sending strength and love without any resistance being shown.

"You are all I need," Finwë repeated. "You are and will always be my Joy for as long as this world lasts."

They stayed that way for many hours, enjoying one another's presence. For a time it felt as if they had gone to the past: Fëanor as the single child in the house, and Finwë giving his all and more to be a part and firm foundation in his son's life.


	8. Finwe's End (Epilogue)

The darkness came suddenly. Finwë felt an encroaching chill and dread he had not felt since Cuivienen. The only light he had with him was the beating light of Fëanor's soul in the necklace. His grandsons had gone hunting, and he prayed they would be safe. The earth quaked at his feet as his foe approached. The former king held his sword up, unsure of where his enemy was.

"I did not expect the puny elf-king to be here defending the great Fëanáro's gates. It ought to be the duty of his children, not his beloved father."

Finwë refused to be intimidated by Melkor's unforgettable voice. He steeled his resolve, finding a drive to defend his son's possessions. He prayed for deliverance regardless.

"Surrender the Silmarils, and you may yet live. But your avoidance of my spirits at the Lake is too much of a crime for me to look over; you would have made a great lord of the Orcs." Finwë could feel the smirk in the Vala's tone. "But you would have been a waste of time, seeing how low you have fallen. I shall take great delight seeing my foe's soul crack in two with your demise!"

The elf was thrown into the gates and pounded with a great hammer. Finwë's ability to feel was destroyed, and his breath diminished. The gates of Formenos were opened, and his legs were crushed beneath the heavy doors. Desperately Finwë clung to whatever life that was still there, but it rapidly failed. He mentally cried out for any aid: from the Valar, from Eru, pleading that his grandsons would come swiftly. Seeing it unanswered he reached out for the special bond he and Fëanor shared, only to find he was too weak to do anything.

Finwë's soul wept in anguish as it severed from his body. Unwillingly it went to Mandos, now carrying the burden of one's oath being broken. So perished Finwë, wishing beyond everything else that he could have seen his son one last time in life…

* * *

_A/N I thought of doing an Epilogue with Feanor's perspective...Maybe it will happen, but probably not. Thank you guys for reading, and especially to those who reviewed and followed/favorited._


End file.
